


Drabble Dump

by CerysKitty



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 18:15:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3178289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CerysKitty/pseuds/CerysKitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a place to leave all the short drabbles I wrote for Tumblr~</p><p>More or less everything contains various pairings, though only a few venture into explicit territory. Each chapter will contain any relevant warnings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Drift/Ratchet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drift/Ratchet
> 
> Somewhat explicit.
> 
> Written an age ago for something on Tumblr along the lines of 'hey what if Drift was really nervous about going near Ratchet's valve?' or words to that effect.  
> 

 

It was going so well, and Drift’s valve was throbbing as he ground against Ratchet's thigh, and by the sounds the medic was making he was enjoying himself too.

 

But then he glanced down and caught sight of the medic's covered valve, and found himself stilling to a stop as unwanted fantasies flashed through his head.

 

“What’s wrong?” Ratchet moved to sit up, and Drift cursed himself when he saw the concern all over his face.

 

“It’s um, It’s really nothing, I swear!” He tried to grind down on Ratchet's thigh again, to try and get the medic to forget and move on with their evening, but red hands reached for his and brought him to a stop.

 

“Drift, you can tell me anything. Ask me anything.” He half smiled. “And even if it’s weird, it’s nothing I haven’t heard before from a hundred other mechs. Come on, try me.” His thumbs ran in soothing circles on the backs of Drift’s own, and didn't push any further, allowing Drift to find the words in his own time.

 

Drift still couldn't look Ratchet in the eyes though, head bowed as he spoke, suddenly all too aware of his open panel and his vulnerability in front of the one mech left he truly wanted to not be disappointed in him.

 

“I just… It’s just a fantasy, and you don't have to do it I swear but… Sometimes…” He drew into himself, and huddled closer to Ratchet. “Sometimes I think about uh, being the one to… uh, penetrate?” He dared a glance up, and at Ratchet’s confused expression let the rest of the words tumble out in a frantic rush.“But not with my spike or anything, well maybe but no it’s, I mean… _Fingers_?”

 

The last word came out as a squeak, and Drift dropped his face again in mortification.

 

There was silence for a moment, though Drift could swear Ratchet would be able to hear his spark flipping in his chest, and he was about to make an excuse and scurry away, until Ratchet just huffed and tugged him into a hug, and tucked Drift’s helm under his chin.

 

“You’re a fraggin’ idiot kid. I’ve been trying for weeks to get you on top but by the way you acted, I just thought you didn’t like it.” One hand trailed down Drift’s back, and it was soothing until Ratchet slipped it between them and palmed at Drift’s spike cover, when it abruptly turned teasing. “Been craving your spike for a while now, and if you’re up to it I fully plan to leave myself in your capable hands.”

 

Drift’s helm shot up. His cheeks and the tips of his finials were still heated in embarrassment, but it was nothing compared to the disbelief and awe he currently felt for his lover.

 

“You mean you’re into valve play too?” And the look Ratchet gave him was oddly sad, but it passed quickly when the medic stroked a finger over his recessed spike.

 

“Kid, I swear I have no idea what to do with you.” And then Ratchet was dragging Drift’s hand down to his equipment, and he gasped as his fingers met the wet warmth of the medic’s bared valve. “But then again, I have a few ideas.”

 


	2. Shockwave/Blurr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shockwave/Blurr
> 
> Somewhat explicit. Exhibitionism, master/slave AU.

“Come now pet, if you must do that in public, at least put on a show for our guests.”

 

Shockwave didn’t need to tug the leash to draw Blurr’s attention up to him, but he did so anyway, wrapping it around his claws a little in the process. At his words, Blurr paused in his gentle rocking against his Master’s thigh, casting a disinterested glance over his shoulder at the other Decepticons gathered around the meeting table. They were polite enough to not look at the glistening stain upon Shockwave’s leg, but Blurr could tell they were aroused.

 

If not yet then they would be soon. 

 

He dismissed his Master’s guests with a roll of his optics, and grinned up at him as he angled himself a little more provocatively, shifting his aft up as he brought his fingers down to spread himself, exaggerating his moan a little as he licked at the plating in front of him. He revelled in the attention, in knowing the other mechs were desperate to touch, but that his Master would never even let them look without his permission. He slipped a finger inside, spreading the lubricant around lewdly. He’d get them so hot their fans would be fit to malfunction, and once he’d done a good job with that, he’d beg his Master to take him against the desk, perhaps right in front of them.

 

Judging by the heating frame under his, it wouldn’t take much to convince him.


	3. Drift/Ratchet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drift/Ratchet
> 
> Somewhat explicit. Petplay. D/s

“Come on, sit.” Ratchet tugged lightly on the leash, prompting Drift to whine up at him from his position on the floor.

 

But what a good position it was, hovering over a large false spike, thighs trembling with arousal and strain.

 

Drift was already so aroused, lubricant was dripping down the false-spike already as Drift hovered, the tip barely nudging past the slick lips of his valve. They both knew he could take it, but part of today’s play meant that Ratchet wasn’t stretching him, and it was hard for Drift to do it himself when his hands were tied behind his back.

 

Right. Sit. He carefully lowered himself a little, trying to make sure he’d actually take the toy in properly, and not land on it at n awkward  angle, and when the tip spread his lips and slipped inside, he knew he was good.

 

“We don’t have all day pet.” Another tug, and Drift braced himself. On an exhale out, he dimmed his optics and dropped his body weight, sinking down all the way. The stretch was intense, and he cried out as he felt every sensor within him ignite with the sudden force. When he finally settled and stopped trembling he rocked a little, nudging the toy in until it was sat comfortably, and whimpered up at his Master as the sensations shot through him.

 

He hoped he’d been good. Hoped he’d be allowed to overload soon today, but he’d hesitated and made Ratchet wait so perhaps he’d have to wait too.

 

It was best not to think about it, just go along with the sensations and orders and enjoy it all. Ratchet had never left him hanging, just drawn it out to the point of almost agony before granting him release.

 

He still hoped he’d been good enough though, and was determined to prove himself as Ratchet’s spike cover snapped aside.


	4. Fortress Maximus/Metroplex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fort Max/Metroplex
> 
> Just cuddling. I have literally no idea why I wrote this, I don't even think it ever made it to tumblr...

This… is so old, I don’t think it ever even made it to tumblr wtf

 

Fortress Maximus knew that it was sometimes nice to hug a smaller bot. Not that he’d ever done it, but he could vaguely remember seeing it in camps or military bases, that there would often be a minibot or two whom the other mechs would pick up when they felt like it and cuddle until they felt better. In hindsight the minibots probably took it on instead of other duties or something, but that was an old sort of practice and he hadn’t really thought about it since then.

 

Until he witnessed a good handful of occasions in the bar, where Swerve or Pipes would be minding their own business, only to be swept up carefully into the arms of some other mech. No one complained, and there was a lot of giggling if he heard correctly, and then whenever they needed to get down the minibot was placed back on his pedes and it all went on as normal. As far as he could guess, Rung was trying out more experimental therapy techniques.

 

It didn’t really matter though, as he wasn’t about to start picking anyone up, especially given how easily he could have an accident. No, he’d get through it all the normal way, as he always had.

 

~~~

 

He wasn’t sure what had happened. Explosions and a crash landing, and then there was fighting, _lots_ of fighting, until suddenly there wasn’t, and instead there was a goliath standing over them- Metroplex, except he was a myth though apparently not- and Alpha Trion was approaching Rodimus and it was all such a blur and everything was kind of foggy. He’d remember better after he’d recharged and defragged, but until then he was sat on his berth in a sort of fuzzy confusion, trying to piece the events together.

 

He wasn’t sure how long he sat, but evidently he fell into recharge because the next thing he knew he was onlining, optics flickering on to take in the view of the ceiling. His memories were a little better, but still not great, but then he tried not to remember too much of anything these days, so one crazy night wasn’t going to make much difference to him really. And yeah, best not to go too far down that trail of thought this early in the cycle.

 

Outside it was bright, whatever planet they were on, and he saw the silhouette of Rodimus and Alpha Trion in the distance, still talking about who knew what, and then behind him a small team were fixing up the damages from the crash landing. He’d offer to help but he still wasn’t exactly on friendly terms with any of them, save perhaps the little medic and Rung.

 

And there, to the other side of the ship, was the hulking mass of Metroplex, sat on the earth as he stared into the distance. It was rare that anyone could dwarf Fort Max, and he found it a relief in some strange way, to not be the biggest, to not have to worry about anyone staring at him because surely they’d be more interested in the giant next to him. He wondered how the titan coped, or if he even cared, and found himself walking over to him, mumbling some words of greeting which he was surprised were even heard.

 

Awkwardly, he sat next to a massive pede, and they both stared out in silence at the horizon. It was nice, comforting, as he felt the gentle hum of the other’s EM field against his plating. All-consuming even just next to each other, but the titan was calm and deceptively gentle, and he found himself more relaxed than he’d been in vorns.

 

Though just like that, the calm was ruined when a giant servo came down to sweep him up, cradling him against the titan’s spark chamber. He clung against a digit as he wobbled, shouting and threatening, not that Metroplex took any notice, and he just held him there, pressed lightly against his spark chamber, unmoving save for that unexpected grab.

 

This... This was like those minbots, except Fort Max wasn’t a mini though he guessed compared to the titan he was tiny, and perhaps it was nice when he stopped clinging for dear life and relaxed into he EM field again.

 

He lent back again the other’s chest, and he could feel the humming whirr of the spark within, vibrating through him, and that was definitely nice, and it was nice to be cradled gently, the huge hands offering a sort of protection, and he definitely felt safe up here, because no one would dare try to attack such a monster of a mech.

 

Snuggling in he dimmed his optics, and brushed his digits over the servo holding him, and thought to himself that perhaps Rung was on the right track with his new treatment ideas.


	5. Soundwave/Ratchet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 'Okay. Gimmie Soundwave/Ratchet and some fluffy domesticity ^.-'
> 
> Just fluff.
> 
> Soundwave doesn’t speak much because FUCK SO HARD

The kids were out, sent on some mission to annoy Optimus or something, and Ratchet used the term ‘kids’ very loosely, given that half of Soundwave’s brats were older than Bumblebee, yet still acted like they’d been onlined a handful of days ago. Regardless, they were _gone_ , and their shared quarters were finally tidy for the first time in weeks, and Ratchet had even managed to find some old cybertronian music in his collection, which he played as a nice background noise while he set up their table for dinner.

 

His lover had been working far too hard, though defecting and offering up the final trump card needed to beat Megatron was always going to be tiring, and that was without the weeks spent in the brig under constant observation by both Red Alert and Jazz. By the end of it, Ratchet himself had been close to snapping, and though Soundwave put on a good poker face, he knew that inside he was ready to collapse as well.

 

He lit the candles and had just enough time to dim the lights before he heard the swoosh of the door opening, and with a quick check of himself he turned to smile at his lover, moving forward to grab him when Soundwave just stood still in the doorway, shock evident in his entire posture. When Ratchet reached up to tug his face down, Soundwave’s mask and visor retracted instantly, and he bent the remaining distance to kiss the medic gently. Before it could deepen further, Ratchet pulled away, and with a grin tugged Soundwave over to the table.

 

“So, the agenda for the night. No pesky cassettes to bother us, so we’re going to enjoy this meal, and then I’m treating you to a full frame wax and polish, and maybe a nice overload or two if you’re up to it.” Ratchet’s spark spun when Soundwave offered up his own shy smile, and he knew he’d never ben able to get enough of it.

 

“Ratchet: Too thoughtful. Soundwave: Appreciates it more than he can explain.” But Ratchet didn’t need flowery verses. What the mech lacked in words, he more than made up for with ernest and honest expressions, and knew that when they hardlined later, he’d be washed away with the intensity of his appreciation.

 

“Well, don’t count yourself lucky too soon. When I come back as a miserable grump from an all day surgery, I’ll be poking at you to get the kinks out of my hands.” His playful jab was met with a huff of laughter and bright optics.

 

“Soundwave: Would want nothing more.”


	6. Wing/Ratchet/Drift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Wing/Ratchet/Drift ghost hunter au
> 
> Didn’t get to any shipping, but assume it comes later in their adventures because wow I'd love to write more for this AU :D

It was a weird business they had, but then it was weird talents they had too, and it was always best to play to your strengths. Ratchet could fix up a mech with his optics shuttered, and was freakishly good at bringing mechs back from the brink of death. Drift could wave a sword around like a pro, but preferred to spend his time meditating and feeling for strange energy pulses in the air.

 

 

The fact that they could both see ghosts, the residual traces of mechs who hadn’t yet found their way to The Well? Well, that was apparently better paying than both medicine and palm reading put together, and they both had bills to pay. Ratchet constantly grumbled about people caring more about the dead than the living, but Drift didn’t mind so much, especially when the upside was seeing ghosts finally finding peace, or banishing the troublesome ones.

 

This one… Was a troublesome one, though more of a prankster than anything malicious. They’d got the call from a nearby resident, who complained that the old cathedral was haunted, and it wasn’t exactly out of their way so here they were, trying to corner a pesky little jet, who kept springing out of hiding places and giggling when they swore at him.

 

“If this little slagheap wasn’t already dead-”

 

“I know! You say it very time jeez Ratch, just get the net ready, I’m gonna lure him to you.” Said net was specially charged with ‘positive energies’ so Drift said, though Ratchet figured it was more likely something to do with spark energies and magnets. Either way, when Drift managed to herd the ghost towards him, the net did a good job of trapping him and containing the energy, stopping the little brat from disappearing, and Ratchet didn’t care if it was a rag or Primus’ personal shopping bag, he was glad it worked.

 

“Oh, you guys got me.” He seemed upset, though still had a smile on his face. “So what happens now?” This bit, Ratchet left up to Drift and his much nicer way with words, and the kid sank to a crouch in front of the downed jet, offering a warm smile.

 

“Now, we help you find peace in The Well. Why are you still hanging around here?” Watching over a loved one was the usual answer, though judging by the pained look on his face, the ghost was one of the more unusual ones.

 

“I don’t think I can join The Well. My sword,” he gestured to the faintly glowing image of a sword where it was strapped to his back. “My sword has a soul of its own, and I need to get it back to the Circle of Light, and then we’ll both join together and forge a new one, for the next bearer to wield.”

 

This weird fairy tale junk was definitely up Drift’s alley, and Ratchet groaned at the grin that lit up his face.

 

“So we need to go on a _quest_? To find these Knights, and then you’ll have peace? That’s- Hey Ratchet did you hear?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Can we go?”

 

“I get the distinct feeling, that you won’t take no for an answer.” And with his permission gained, Drift turned back to the downed jet.

 

“So what’s your name? I’m Drift, and that’s Ratchet, we hunt ghosts and… Other stuff I guess.”

 

“Uh, I’m Wing. It’s… It’s nice having people see me, I haven’t had anyone to chat to in years, most of the other ghosts around here are… Untalkative?” Which was polite, given that this area had some of the roughest poltergeists the two of them had ever had to deal with. Ratchet watched as Drift pulled the net off Wing, and then grunted when it was tossed at him to sort out and fold.

 

“Well, you should come home with us first, then we can work out where to begin. The Knights, they left years ago didn’t they? We’re going to need a ship.”


	7. Hound/Mirage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Hound/Mirage, class reversal AU
> 
> Gen fic
> 
> I want to write this as a legit long fic omfg so many ideas

Hound had to admit, that the mech squirming in front of him was gorgeous, even if he was filthy, battered, and held up between two of his guards.

 

“Where did you find him?”

 

“Sir, he was sneaking around the gardens, and we found several items of worth in his subspace, most of which belong to your house sir.” One of the guards yanked the mech’s arm when he struggled to pull away, though Hound was quick to quietly admonish him. The mech looked bad enough as it was, he didn’t want him damaged further.

 

“Also sir, there were several cubes of energon on him, and a few empty ones. The chef has tallied it all up, and it looks like he’s had a couple from your supplies, I’m afraid it was the vintage import from Crystal City.” Hound winced with the guard. That stuff had been a gift, and was extortionately expensive. He might have been able to let the mech go had he just been caught and no damage done, but that… Stealing such valued stock would need a punishment, and he wasn’t convinced he wanted to know what the city enforcers would do to him.

 

“What’s your name?” The mech looked confused for a moment, clearly not expecting to be spoken to, and it took a shake from one of the guards for him to stutter out a reply.

 

“M-Mirage sir. I… I’m sorry. Didn’t mean-”

 

“I think you meant to very much, though perhaps you would have chosen a different selection of cubes had you known the full picture.” The mech just slumped and avoided all optic contact, though the dim golden optics Hound had caught sight of were intriguing, as was the fact that he still had no idea how such a scrawny mech managed to get into his housing complex and past his guards.

 

“Do you wish us to call the enforcers sir?” And wasn’t that the real question. What to do with him.

 

“No. Have him cleaned up, and bring him to my study. I still have questions I want to ask before I decide what to do with him.” He tried to smile reassuringly when the mech, Mirage, looked up in horror. “Hush, don’t worry. I just have a couple of questions, I’m not going to harm you in any way.” He knew the sort of things his fellows occasionally did to pitiful, replaceable mechs on the streets, and wanted no part in it.

 

The mech didn’t seem calmed though, but then he probably wouldn’t be until the ordeal was over. As he watched the guards lead him out and towards the servants washracks, he called over a steward.

 

“Have one of the chefs make up a plate of energon treats and low grade, and bring them to my study.” The mech nodded and was off.

 

Hound knew to trust his instincts, and they were all but screaming that he try and keep hold of that mech until he knew him better, and knew exactly what it was about him that was so intriguing. And polite chit chat over a plate of treats was definitely one of the nicer ways to interrogate a mech and entice them into staying for a while.


	8. Ultra Magnus/Rodimus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Rodimus/Ultra Magnus, "At this point my computer’s working perfectly fine and even if it wasn’t I’d know how to fix it, but I keep calling the tech-support guy anyway because I have a big fat crush on him" AU

This was the fifth time this week that Magnus had been called into his boss’ office. Each and every time for some ridiculously trivial problem with his console, and apparently the idiot had truly managed to mess things up now, as the last comm had been ‘yeah it’s just not turning on, come fix it’. He wasn’t convinced this kid, Rodimus, should have been in charge of the business, even if it was only while Optimus was away, and if his friend didn’t get back from his holiday soon, he might be taking a very long holiday of his own.

 

An empty threat of course, as he almost physically shuddered at the thought of doing something which would so blatantly disregard all procedures.

 

“Yeah so I guess I keep pressing the ‘on’ button, but nothing’s happening?”

 

“Sir, please call tech support next time, they’re much better suited to these problems.” He was just a high end manager, he should be out there organising things, not stuck in here with this brat while he… Draped himself over the desk? “Sir?” He was quietly pleased that his voice didn’t waver when Rodimus just cocked his head and bent lower, chest practically on his desk with his aft in the air.

 

“Oh, yeah sorry, I was going to try and see down the back, in case a lead fell out.” And he bent lower, helm disappearing from sight, so all Magnus had to look at was that perfect aft, shimmying in front of him.

 

When the brat spread his legs, and Magnus caught sight of the tiniest glisten of interface lubricant beading at the edges of his panel, he immediately had to turn away, before his mind and array got ideas not suitable for a workplace environment, let alone suitable to engage in with one’s superior.

 

And that’s when he caught sight of the plug pulled out of the wall, and when he plugged it back in, the disappointment in Rodimus’ voice didn’t last long, before he was back to leaning against his desk, hips cocked and hands splaying enticingly over his hips, fingers even dipping into his own hip cabling in the most lewd display Magnus had ever seen outside of a berthroom.

 

“Wow, guess you saved the day.” Not really. “However can I repay you?”

 

And Magnus managed to scarper before his array pinged to activate, though it didn’t seem to stop Rodimus, when not three hours later he received the message; ‘Magnus, I’m having some trouble with this touch display, come and show me how it’s done?’


End file.
